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Anastasia Jun 5
fire in her lungs
dust in her mouth
keep going,
keep going
run
to the south

yellow
and tan
footprints
in the sand
her red
converse
leave
trails

an imperfect daughter
looking for water
disappointment
follows
each step.

sand in clothes
in her hair
twixt her toes
she runs
with her red converse.

will she ever come across
an oasis, lost
or will her bones
stay hidden,
in the sand.
Anastasia Jun 5
she wore hightops
and a tattered
old book bag.
and she liked
to tie
her red converse
to it's straps.
and walk
across
the fire escape.

the metal
beneath
her socked feet
was cool
and x-ed
and black.

she ran,
and she laughed
or she ran
and she cried
but she ran
and she ran
for it was all
she could do.
Oh, how you were so pearly white when I saw you.
What a good impression you made with me.
It took some time to get comfortable.
Soon enough we've made so many memories
walking here and there.
But as they do, you've got some scuffs now.
More time passes, you're not as clean as when I first saw you.
Usually how it goes, I either get fond of these well worn shoes and want to keep them forever or end up tossing them.
I still remember the good times, but I've moved on and there are other shoes to admire now.
I wish to explain further.. I know you're capable of interpreting.. But this poem is a metaphor for friendships, the beginning, middle and end. I had been thinking about the different friends we make over a lifetime. It's okay for friendships to change into something else. We change as people, so it makes sense.
mer Mar 7
I like my green converse
They aren’t black, like the night without the moon and stars
Or the bottom of the ocean
Or the greasy cast iron pan
They aren’t red, like the blood
That flows in my veins
Or the sunset at seven
Or the maraschino cherries in my fridge
They’re green,
Like the grass beneath my feet
Like the painting in my dining room
Like a ripening banana
Green is my favorite color,
so I like my green converse
Isaac Aug 2018
go to God
and be with Him
it always will
make Satan grim
for that is what
submitting looks like
giving Satan
no chance to strike
he is resisted when
you and God converse
one on one
in His presence immersed
Written 25 August 2018
Haylin Apr 2018
Converse shoes and sometimes vans.
Most of them aren't worn up because there's always new ones.

Skinny jeans and crop tops.
Whoever understood these shrinking styles?
This generation of despair and confusion.

Teens who look up to eachother more than their family.
Teens who find satisfaction on the side of a sharpener's razor or the end of a cigarette.
Teens who live in their young lives more than their parents ever did.

We're seeing chaos and ****** of little children.
Wars in countries that hates eachother.
The oxygen thats thinning right in front of our faces.
And how much poison being thrown at us, brainwashing youths and toddlers.
Making them miserable without them being aware of it.

But this is the generation that knows the power of loving eachother.
The generation that uses that power to stay alive.

We're living on the edge.
We're seeing what the world is becoming.
And we are the only hope, to get **** back on track.
Hell even adults say that.
Dani Jan 2018
I’ve got buzzing in my feet
cause of this new pair of shoes
and I’m feeling pretty sweet
like there’s nothing to lose.

They’ve got thick rubber soles
and bright white laces
The kind to take a stroll
with deep wide paces.

My bright yellow pair of sneakers
I wonder how they look
Or if I seem too eager
Or if I’ll be mistook.

They make me grin so wide
I feel unrecognizable
My heart so full of pride,
My smile’s undeniable.

I can’t help but feel neat
when I squeak against the sidewalk
or when I saunter down the street
and meander round a roadblock.

I’ve got buzzing in my feet
cause of this new pair of shoes
and I’m feeling pretty sweet
like there’s nothing to lose.
A poem to be read out loud, play with sound.
Sara Soko Jan 2018
My heart is starting to look like my converse.
***** and worn, but fully functional.
No holes.

My heart is starting to look like my notebooks.
Missing the cover and a few pages here and there,
but, still full of plenty of worthwhile content.

My heart is starting to act like my cat.
really means well and playful
but, isn't very good with strangers
or people in general, really.

I guess that it's a slow build.
Two steps forward and one step back, is still movement.
I know it's not the saying, but I'm an optimist.
I **** up less often than I get **** right.

Bad things come in threes and I think I've bought myself some time.
Joshua Haines Oct 2017
French vanilla Converse,
  taupe-boxed flannel (too big),
and an American Spirit burning,
  real, real slow. What a hipster ****;
what a culture-eating parasite.
  He says, 'Read Proust with me.'
He says something about how
  his dad is dead but not in
a literal sense; metaphorically.
  I was never interested in that part
in the avant-garde spoken poetry Friday nights.

  I bust into the bathroom
and *****, grasping
  Bed Bath and Beyond clearance items.
The walls are the same shade
  of green as my skin.
A hand pets my thigh and I'm told
  it'll all be okay.
How those knuckles knew,
  I'll never know.
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